


Beautiful Thing or Five Times Phil sort of came out to Martyn and One Time he really came out to Martyn

by moonygirl76



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Always, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Drinking, F/M, Five Plus One, Getting Together, Happy Ending, I love me some jealous dan, Jealous Dan Howell, M/M, Martyn Lester POV, No Smut, Recreational Drug Use, mentioned charlieskies, no actual charlieskies, oblivious martyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonygirl76/pseuds/moonygirl76
Summary: Like it says on the can.Five times Martyn is oblivious with what's going on with Phil and one time Phil has to spell it out for him.





	Beautiful Thing or Five Times Phil sort of came out to Martyn and One Time he really came out to Martyn

**Author's Note:**

> Beautiful Thing. Like the Grace Vanderwaal song. And the Dan and Phil video by yourblindtowhatyousee. Sorry if I get Martyn wrong. I don't think I've ever heard him talk? So. He's kind of ooc. He's my Martyn. In my head. Same with Cornelia. I'm very obviously American. So. Just for fun.

ONE

I might be. A little. Drunk. And high. But I don’t think I’m actually high. But I might be. Probably. A wee bit. Corn came over to the house with Mum and Dad gone to Isle of Man for the holiday. She was asking after Phil. This was three pints in. For me. Not for Corn. Actually I think Corn might have finished my last pint. So she had . . . Nope. Not going to do maths. Never liked maths. What was I saying?  
So Corn wants to meet Phil. Which is dandy. Except Phil isn’t home. So I show her his Youtube videos. But I kind of forgot how cringe some of them are. And some time around about when we are finishing the blunt she brought with, she starts getting a bit pissy about Phil being “sexually suggestive” to his young female subscribers. Polluting their young minds and such.  
We keep noshing and drinking. And then, by the time Philly comes home it’s gone two a.m. Corn, bless her, is going on to him about victimization, and fornication, and consent and generally just being a creep online. Giving him an earful. I’m not sure if she’s even really making sense any more. Not to me anyway. Phil is just looking at her all wide-eyed and sheepish. I feel a bit bad for him.  
“Corn. Phil is not trying to cat-fish underage girls,” I say.  
“Let him defend himself, Mooken,” she says all snappish, before turning back to him.  
He looks rather intimdated for someone who is 30 cm taller than she is. But Cornelia is a spitfire, she is. “I’m not trying to cat-fish underage girls,” Phil finally says.  
“See, love?” I say.  
“I’m just trying to catfish men of age.”  
“See?” I say again, taking a sip of my pint. Then I realise what Phil said. And I spit it all over poor Cornelia. Luckily she is laughing, and not giving me a bollocking. She’s lovely when she laughs, she is. My Corn. I laugh with her and sneak a cheeky kiss on that cherry red mouth of hers. I can’t even remember why we are laughing, to be honest. So I just keep snogging her until she’s got all her giggles out. Then I remember: Phil.  
But Phil has buggered off. Which is grand. Because Corn. And snogging. 

TWO

I’m checking on the bolognese when I hear them talking from the kitchen. Corn and Philly have made up and become fast friends. I can see from where I’m standing that she’s got her arm around him as he shows her something online on his laptop. If I was a jealous guy, I’d be in a right strop over it. But I am not. Not even a wee bit. Well. A wee bit. Maybe.  
“Who is Charlieskies?” Corn asks.  
“Just a friend. Another youtuber,” Phil says, sipping on his wine.  
“He’s the one you’re going to see at the convention?” she asks.  
“Yeah. But he’s not really speaking to me at the moment,” Phil says.  
“Oh? But why?” Corn says, sympathetic, like a mother hearing of her child’s boo boo, or playground squabbles.  
I shouldn’t be listening in. But I’m sure Corn will tell me later. And at least Phils friend drama is more interesting than the footy right now.  
Phil shrugs. “Just because someone has a big cock doesn’t mean that everyone is going to want to suck it. At least not forever. It’s not even that big. Comparatively.”  
I drop the spaghetti pot on the floor.  
“Metaphorically speaking,” Phil says, loudly. “I’m going to go pack.”  
Metaphorically? Well. He is the one with the fancy degrees. I chuckle to myself as I get all the noodles into the bin.  
Phil’s gone by the time I’ve cleaned up. Corn, who I find, still on the couch, has a lovely warm wine cheeks. I nuzzle close, running my fingers through those soft, red curls. Maybe we’ll just order in and have cuddles on the couch. 

THREE

We’re watching Goblet of Fire. The three of us. Mum and dad have turned in. I’m mostly, kind of, awake.  
“Your snoring, Mooken,” Corn says.  
A pillow bounces off my head. “Oi!” I protest.  
“Shut it, Martyn,” Phil says, “Some of are trying to watch Harry Potter. The greatest movie series of our generation.”  
“Sure. Hufflepuff,” I say under my breath. I get another pillow bounced off my head for my trouble. “Oi!” I say, again. I pull the blanket over my head.  
I can hear them both chewing on their popcorn. I should probably just kip down for the night.  
“Oh,” Corn says. “Hermione has an awkward girl boner over Ron in this one.”  
“Same,” Phil whispers.  
I snort. I tackle him and tickle fight him until he relents. “Girl boner. You nutter!”  
He concedes defeat.  
Later, as we are settling in for the night, Cornelia says “You shouldn’t be so hard on your brother. He’s quite lovely.”  
“Of course! He’s hilarious. Girl boner! He’s always cracking me up, he is.” She doesn’t say anything, and I feel like I’ve lost the plot. “Don’t you reckon?” I ask her.  
“Oh, yes. He is very funny. Dry and droll. I just think. I don’t know if he is always trying to play the prat you make him out to be,” she says.  
I think on that a long time as I’m falling asleep. Women are a bit barmy sometimes though. Or, at least, too smart for me to keep up with. 

FOUR

I look over Phil’s shoulder where he is currently private messaging someone online. “Who is danisnotonfire and why is he coming to stay while the rest of us are away?” I ask Phil. Phil slams his laptop close.  
“Can I have a little privacy, Martyn?”  
“Sure, mate. Just wondering. Is it a secret? Does mum know?”  
“Of course she knows. I’m allowed to have friends over.”  
“Where’s he from, then?”  
“Youtube.”  
“He lives on youtube? Amazing. Is he a cyborg? Or an AI?” I ask.  
He takes a swipe at me with those long gorilla arms, but I dodge out of the way. “I know him from Youtube, you wanker. He’s from the South. Wokingham.”  
“What? Is he daft? That’s got to be a four hour train ride,” I tell him.  
“I think he said it’s a bit over five actually,” Phil says.  
“Why on earth would he want to ride all that way to see you here in boring old Rawtenstall? And why on earth are you blushing, you weirdo?” I ask. Because he is. I can see from where I’m standing that his cheeks have gone all ruddy.  
“I’m not blushing. You’re just making me angry.”  
“Well. Just stating facts, mate. His homelife must be shit if he has to come here for entertainment.”  
Phil spends the rest of the day cleaning, as the rest of us lot pack. He’s never missed holiday with the family. Strange, that. 

FIVE

Cornelia and I might be a little wine drunk. We’ve just been to din with some friends of hers. We going to stay in a swank hotel. Well. Not that swank. It’s just Manchester after all. But first, gonna go surprise visit my baby brother in his new flat.  
I check my watch. It is half eleven. But if we wake him, serves him right for not inviting us to the bloody house warming. I’m not actually sure there was a housewarming? But there bloody well should have been. I tell Corn as much as we are climbing the bazillion stairs to his flat. No wonder the kid got a deal.  
“Wait.” Corn stops me a flight off of Phil’s floor. “Let’s pull a prank on him. He’ll love it.”  
“What do you mean?” I ask. Distracted by how lovely she looks with that red flower tucked in her hair. And that yellow dress. Last time she wore it she let me undo all the buttons down the back.  
I’m thinking maybe we should skip the visit and move right on to the swank hotel. And the unbuttoning of the buttons. But she’s smiling. Eager. And not in the same way I am.  
“We’ll pretend to be someone else,” she says. “Cops? Or maybe a landlord? Collecting missing rent?”  
“I know,” I say, catching on. “You can pretend to be an ex. A jilted one-night stand,” I say.  
Corn must like that idea. She can’t even stop laughing. I have to take her arm, for fear she’ll topple down the stairs in her hysterics. Must be the wine. She wipes her eyes. “Yeah. That will be funny,” she says.  
I stand just out of view and Corn knocks loudly. “Philly! Open up, Philly. You better not have one of your harlots in there!”  
Harlot. Jaysus. Where did my love learn English? I have to stifle a laugh. She swats at me. “Philly, baby! I need you! Once was not enough for meeeee!”  
The door jerks open. “What the ever-loving fuck is going on?” And that voice is not Phil’s.  
“Oh. Sorry. We were looking for Phil,” Corn says.  
“Who the fucking fuck do you think you are?” the boy screams, his voice cracking. I step in front of Cornelia, who looks a bit shell-shocked at being spoken to like that by what looks like a teen boy. His hair is a curly mess and he looks to be in sleep shorts a purple T-shirt with a kitten on it.  
“Look, mate,” I give his shoulder a sharp poke. Even if this is the wrong flat. I don’t appreciate his tone. Just then Phil comes running out of somewhere, wearing only his boxers. He’s waving his arms about. “Wait! Stop!”  
The kid takes the opportunity of my distraction to push me back. “Don’t ‘mate’ me. You and this slag—”  
Phil literally clamps a hand over the boys mouth and, wrapping an arm around his waist, hauls him backward into the flat, the boys socked feet sliding along. The door slams shut in our faces.  
Corn’s eyes are as wide as mine, I’m sure.  
We wait. I’m practically holding my breath as I try to listen to the muffled raised voices from the other side of the door. Several minutes pass.  
Then the door opens again. It’s Phil. He’s put a shirt on, along with his glasses, and he’s sweating. He wipes his forehead with his hand.  
“I am so sorry,” Corn starts. All I can do is stare at her. She’s sorry?  
“Phil—” I start.  
“I know. I’m sorry. That’s. That’s my friend. He’s. He gets cranky when his sleep is disturbed,” he says.  
“Your friend?” I ask. Because he looked so young, I would have believed it if Phil said he was babysitting.  
“Yes. My friend. Dan.”  
“Who stays at your flat? When he has a fight with his mummy and daddy or something?”  
Phil rolls his eyes. “He goes to Manchester.”  
“Bully for him. Manchester? That’s conveniently located across the entire city. Can he ride his skateboard that far?”  
Corn smacks my arm. Rather hard, actually.  
“Actually shut up,” Phil says. “He’s having trouble settling in. He crashes here sometimes. He . . . brings his laundry.” And Oh. Danisnotonfire. I’m about to have at him again when Corn interrupts.  
“He has quite a mouth on him,” Corn says. Phil whips his head around to face her. He looks like he’s going to admonish her, but instead he cracks a smile.  
“Yeah. That he does,” he says.  
I guess if Corn’s not mad, I’m not either. Doesn’t mean I need to be happy about Phil’s choice of mates either.  
Phil shows us around the place. Sitting room, bathroom, kitchen, office, second bedroom. “My flatmate is never here,” Phil remarks. What we don’t see again is Dan. Who apparently is holed up in Phil’s room. Probably crashed.  
“Think your mate must have been knackered. Now you’ll have to kip on the couch,” I say, with a snicker, smacking him on the back as we say our goodbyes.  
Phil looks confused for a second, then it seems to dawn on him. “Ah. Well. We’ll figure it out.”  
And I’m sure he will. So good to see him on his own. All growns up. Well. Grown up and making videos for a living. But he makes a go of that. He walks us to the door. I give him a another hug. “Don’t know about that Dan kid, mate,” I tell him. “Why don’t you hang out with Charlie anymore? He’s a laugh.”  
Something large drops in the other room. “I better check on that,” Phil says.  
Corn gives Phil a long hug. And I don’t even care, even when she whispers something only for Phil to hear. Nothing to me. Just want to see Phil with people who are good for him. And I tell Corn as much on the walk back to the street.  
“Phil is fine, Mook. You don’t need to mother him,” Corn says, taking my hand in hers.  
“Yeah. I know. I mean, it’s just his mate. Wait until he gets a proper girlfriend. Then you’ll see me go mental.”

PLUS ONE  
Vegas, baby.  
We’re in the lobby of our hotel. Last drink before we head in. We’ve had quite a night of it.  
I’m so proud of my brother. With his name in lights. Touring the world. Makes a bloke want to cry, just thinking on it.  
“Are you crying?” Corn asks me.  
Phil and Dan halt in their conversation to turn to look at me. Dan is wearing that foolish bedazzled hat and still holding that bright blue pinata. But it’s his birthday, nothing to me.  
I rub at my eyes. “I’m not crying. I got some salt from the tequila shot in my eye.”  
They all laugh. Wankers. Corn rubs my back. She’s a sweet one, she is.  
I tell the boys as much. They smile at me. Indulgently, I’m sure. But it’s true. She is a beautiful, sweet thing. And I’m sweet on her. “That’s enough out of you, Romeo,” Corn says, because I guess I’ve been thinking out loud. Tequila does that.  
“Gonna find you a beautiful thing,” I tell Phil, pointing at him. Or trying to. He keeps moving. Or my arm keeps moving? “What about that costume girl with the purple hair? Fiona?”  
“Felicity,” Corn corrects.  
“No, Martyn,” Phil says, rolling his eyes.  
I hold my hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is that I know your shy and awkward but any lass would be happy to have such a good lad on her arm. Don’t you think, Dan?” Dan looks startled. His beer frozen half way to his mouth. Maybe it’s because I don’t address him much directly. Nothing against him. He’s an alright lad. Funny too, when you get to know him. Still has a smart mouth on him though.  
He’s not smiling anymore. He sets his drink down on the table between us. “Yes,” he says. “I do reckon’ he could make some lass very happy. That’s literally my biggest fear, Martyn.”  
He gets up then. Wobbling, just a little and, still holding the pinata. Tight to his chest.  
Corn, to my surprise, gets up to follow him to the bar.  
I turn back to Phil, to see that he is still watching them. “He doesn’t want to tell his family yet,” he says. And. What? “Or the fans, obviously.”  
“What you on about?” I ask.  
He looks at me then. He doesn’t talk for a few tics, and I fear the worse. Is Dan ill? “Is it cancer?” I ask him. “Even young lads can get the cancer.”  
Phil screws up his face. “Cancer? No, Martyn. I’m talking about us. Him and me.”  
“I’m not following,” I tell him.  
“You must—All those times—Martyn! He’s mine. He’s my beautiful thing. Like Corn is for you. It’s the same. Can’t you see?” he asks.  
I lean forward and wish I hadn’t had that last shot. Because I think. I think I might know what he’s saying, but I want to be sure. Could it be? After all this time? Phil rubs his hands on his jeans and looks away. Like he’s nervous. Which I’ve seen a million times. But he’s never been nervous because of me. And I think of all those times. All those times I dismissed him. Ignored him. Laughed at him.  
Oh Jaysus I laughed. No wonder he waited so long to tell me.  
“I’m a wanker,” I tell him. He looks up at me again, startled.  
I get to my feet, and ignore the pain of my knee hitting the table leg and the two drinks that are knocked over. I hold my arms out in that universal I’m-ready-for-a-hug kind of way. He’s still staring at me. “Come on, Philly. Don’t leave me hanging.”  
He gets up then, and damn. When did my baby brother get so damn tall?  
He laughs, his face in my shoulder. “I’ve been taller than you since primary, you dingus.”  
“Shut up,” I tell him. “I love you, you wanker.”  
“Me too, Martyn.” He sniffs.  
“Does Corn know?” I ask, patting him on the back.  
He’s laughing again. And I’m not quite sure why. “Yes, Martyn. I reckon she’s known for quite some time.”  
And that. Is a thought and a chat for another time. But I’m so proud of him. His own flat. Millions of followers. Touring the world. Name in lights. And a partner to share it with. I push Phil away. So I can run my arm across my eyes. Bloody Tequila.  
“Gonna buy that Dan bloke a drink, I am,” I tell Phil, “and then have a chat with my Corn.” We meet them at the bar. Sharing knowing smiles, and wet eyes. Well. Maybe it’s only my eyes that are wet. And I see the way they look at each other, like the way I look at Corn I reckon. And the way she looks at me. Like she is right now.  
We retreat back to our rooms. Corn and I to ours, and Phil and Dan to theirs. And I guess. Now that I think on it. It is rather weird that they share a hotel room. Even after all this time. Maybe I should have known. Should have guessed. But I’m just glad that I know now.  
Love. It’s a beautiful thing.


End file.
